


Home Is Where I Left My Heart

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Divorce, Drunken Confessions, Family, Injury, M/M, Memories, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson brings Stiles home from the hospital, and moves in temporarily to help care from him. The only problem is, this house holds memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where I Left My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> If I have made any errors in continuity, forgive me. This is for Porn Sunday, and as such, it was written today and is absolutely unedited. This is for otg2012 who requested the story of Stiles and Jackson's first time in this series. Well, it's not exactly their first time, but it's A first time. :) It seemed to fit, anyway. As always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them!

Jackson spends the week between making sure Amanda and Angie head home okay, taking care of Nikki, and getting Stiles’s house ready for him to come home from the hospital. There is nothing that can magically make him better as quickly as he’d like, but Jackson agrees to play nurse and Melissa agrees to stop by twice daily to make sure Jackson is doing the job well enough to keep Stiles out of danger.

He arranges for the hospital bed and everything they need to be moved into the study downstairs, so that Stiles won’t need to climb the stairs to his room. Nikki helps him pack up the desk and move it into the garage, and then helps him move things from Stiles’s bathroom into the main bath downstairs. She is quick and efficient, nudging at Jackson when he gets lost in places he can’t explain to his teenage daughter.

They only have his room left to go when they both stop, and Jackson sinks down onto the bed to sit.

“Are you going to stay here with us?” Nikki asks quietly.

Jackson nods. “I’ll bring my things over and set up in the guest room,” he tells her. “Although I’ll probably sleep downstairs on the sofa, in case your dad needs something in the middle of the night.” Or maybe on the floor in the study. It wouldn’t be the first time Jackson’s spent the night on a hard floor, and he suspects it won’t be the last.

“And he’s okay with this?”

That’s a touchier subject. “We’ve agreed it’s for the best. We’re trying, Nik, okay?” He reaches out and she snuggles in close, nuzzling his cheek in a movement that screams raised-by-wolves to him. When he strokes her hair, she makes a soft shuffling noise and sighs while she relaxes. “Do you want to be here, or do you want to stay at the McCall’s place? The first few nights when he’s home might be… awkward.” It’s the best word Jackson can think of to describe the fights he knows will happen when Stiles’s level of stubborn meets with his lack of ability to do anything, and the need to rely on Jackson for even simple things.

“I’m going to be here.” She gives him a look like he’s crazy to even consider another possibility, and maybe he is. “I’ll try to stay out of the way for the awkward bits. How much can he move around?”

“He’s mobile. They’ve got him up and walking, but he still needs something to lean on, and he can’t shower by himself yet.”

Nikki presses her hands to her ears. “Lalalalalala…”

Jackson snorts back a laugh. “Trust me, it won’t be anything like that. Stiles is more likely to kill me than kiss me, still, and he’s hurt. You don’t have to worry about anything you don’t want to know about happening.”

Her expression is serious when her hands drop to settle in her lap. “Papa, if you and Dad… I mean it, if you guys _did_ do any of that, I wouldn’t mind. I just want you to be happy. With each other, or I guess on your own. But I want you both in my _life_ and I’m glad you’re here and that you’re trying. So thank you for that.”

Did his teenage daughter just give him permission to have sex with his ex-husband? That’s not something Jackson wants to dwell on as he shakes his head. “Thanks, Nik. Go on, go out for a bit. I hear Caleb’s car pulling up. I’m getting Chinese on the way home from the hospital, so be on time for dinner with your dad. He’s not managing to stay up late these days.”

“He doesn’t always remember that he’s mortal, does he?” she says softly.

“He never did.”

#

“Just sleep in my room. I’m not there, so what does it matter?” Stiles’s voice is tired and drawn as he lies back in the hospital bed. “It’s comfortable and there are blankets and pillows, unlike the guest room which has none because I tell guests to bring their own. Which maybe you could do, if you want to go home and get them, but…”

“Shut up.” Jackson sinks into the camp chair he has placed next to the bed. “I’ve slept in a chair for a week already. Why do you think it’s going to be a problem now? This way I can take away your pain, which means you’ll sleep better and heal better. And my body can take it. Anything out of joint will just fix itself in the morning.”

Stiles glares at him. “Don’t go using your werewolfitude against me. Just go sleep upstairs and stop being a martyr.”

“No.”

“You object to a bed?”

“I’ve been in that room. In fact, I’ve been in that bed,” Jackson says flatly. “And I don’t want to sleep in it now. I’m surprised you even kept it.”

Stiles’s mouth snaps shut. “I didn’t see the point in buying new furniture,” he mutters. “And it’s the best room. Why would I move out of it?”

“I don’t feel like sleeping in the memories,” Jackson says quietly. And he can imagine exactly how Stiles can do it. He’s not a wolf. He doesn’t have to smell the layers of the years in there, even the faintest hint of Jackson still hidden in the remnants around the room, as if it was waiting for him to come back. “When I walk in there, all I can think about is the first time.”

Stiles smirks. “It wasn’t our _first_ time.”

“In that room,” Jackson clarifies. “In this house. Before we actually bought it.”

Stiles sighs, eyes closing. “It’s not a bad memory, is it?”

Jackson hears the way his voice drifts, and he knows that the pain medication is taking effect. “No, the memory isn’t bad,” he murmurs. “But it hurts to think about. We were in love then.”

“We’re in love now.”

Jackson knows that’s the pain medication making Stiles talk so baldly, but he can hear the soft hiss from upstairs of Nikki listening through the heating vents. “But it’s not as simple.”

“Pfft.” Stiles raises one hand, fingers liquid in the air. “I love you. You love me. Lydia thinks we should fuck and make up.”

“Is that what you want? Last I knew, you wanted to kill me.”

“Kill’s a strong word.” Stiles sighs, and Jackson wonders if he thinks he’s dreaming. “Seriously maim… perhaps. You’d heal.”

There’s a soft laugh in the air vents, and Jackson glances at the ceiling. “We didn’t have someone trying to listen in on our every moves back then.”

“No, it was pretty much a fuck anywhere zone before we had Nik,” Stiles agrees easily, his voice soft and lazy. “Like right up there in the middle of the floor, while the realtor was out.”

“I think you need to sleep.” Jackson pushes to his feet, moving close enough so his hand can drift over Stiles’s forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll come back later to check on you.”

“Been meaning to ask…” The words slur together, spoken on the edge of dreams.

“Hm?” Jackson waits, curious what he’ll say.

“Did you kiss me awake? Could’ve sworn you kissed me like I was a sleeping princess.”

Jackson’s fingers still, and he feels the flush rising because he knows when Stiles is talking about, when he first woke in the hospital. There’s no worry about answering this one honestly, since Stiles won’t remember it in the morning. “Sometimes,” he says quietly, “when there’s nothing left to lose, you pray the fairy tales are right. And you did wake up.”

“True love’s kiss.” The last word ends on sigh and soft, even breath. Stiles is asleep.

“If only it were that easy.” Jackson touches his own lips with his fingertips, then presses them to Stiles’s lips. “Sleep well. I’ll be back.”

#

Nikki is sitting at the top of the stairs when Jackson heads up. She stands and waits for him there. “I’m sorry I was listening,” she says quietly.

“You’re sorry you got caught,” Jackson says dryly. “On the other hand, you’re old enough now to know that if you spy on people, you might not always like what you hear. Because I’m not going to stop talking bluntly just in case you’ve decided to put your ear to a vent.”

Her chin tilts up. “It’s not like I’m going to catch the two of you having sex.”

He huffs a sigh. “No, you’re not. But we’ve had it in the past and it might come up in conversation.”

“Ew.”

“Then don’t listen in.” Jackson points down the hall. “Get some rest. I know your dad will want to spend some time with you in the morning.”

She leans in, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling close for a hug. He holds her automatically; it’s getting easier the longer he’s here. She’s no longer the little girl he left behind, but he loves the independent teenager that she’s become. “I’ve got a Skype date with Caleb. Goodnight, Papa.”

He’s come upstairs to get his things from the guest room, but now he heads the other direction, pushing open the door to the master suite instead. When he was in this room earlier in the day, Nikki was with him, but now he’s alone and he lets the memories come over him.

The house was empty when they first looked at it, the bedroom seeming large and spacious without the queen sized bed and the two bureaus, or the rocking chair that moved in when Nikki was a baby, after Lydia died. Stiles walked around the edges, measuring with his fingertips grazing along the wall. “I don’t like the carpet,” he mused. “It’s drab.”

“It’s new,” Jackson pointed out. “The house has been flipped. _Everything_ in it is new.”

“Not the duct work.” Stiles gestured at the vents.

“They kept the good things.” Jackson wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind, hands sliding under his shirt. “Are you going to complain about the way they decorated everything? You hated the color in the kitchen, too. We can paint it. We’ll have the pack over, feed them pizza, and set them loose with paintbrushes.”

“Aren’t you usually the one who complains?” Stiles’s brow furrowed. “This isn’t anything like the house where you grew up.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Are you really saying that?”

“You still miss your Porsche.”

“You miss your Jeep,” Jackson countered. “First car is like a first love. I _like_ this house, Stiles. It has more room than we need, but we can afford it, and we can have guests. This is the kind of place where people _live_.” It wasn’t a museum, it had the potential to be a home.

Stiles turned in his arms and kissed Jackson slowly, winding his arms around him. “So you’re saying we should buy it?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re saying this’ll be our room?” Stiles grinned then, a light in his eyes and Jackson remembers how his body tightened so damned quickly at the expression.

“Yeah.” The words ended on an exhale, because Stiles was already dropping down to land on his knees. “Stiles…”

“Don’t say a word.” Stiles worked Jackson’s fly open, managing to slide his fingers in before Jackson could make any noise. “Just listen, and tell me if the agent is coming back.”

Jackson tried to focus on listening, but all he managed was a quick scan of the house to make sure he heard nothing anywhere in it. If their agent came back, he wasn’t going to notice, and he knows now how lucky they probably were. Right then? All he knew was that Stiles had his dick in his mouth, and Jackson wanted to fuck between those sweet lips.

Stiles made a pleased noise, a vibration low in his throat as Jackson pushed into it. “Mm, don’t stop,” Stiles murmured. “You taste so good.” His hand slid into Jackson’s jeans to cup his balls, as he opened his throat, taking him as deep as he could.

Jackson didn’t try to hold back; he felt his eyes flash, heard Stiles groan in response as he swallowed when Jackson came. Stiles pulled back and neatly tucked Jackson away and zipped him back up.

A door closed downstairs.

Jackson reached for Stiles, pulled him to his feet and kissed him, lingering over the touch, his hand cradling the nape of Stiles’s head. He heard the footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall, the clearing of their agents’ throat. “We’re making an offer,” Jackson said quietly, leaning his forehead against Stiles’s, looking at his husband.

“As long as I get to redecorate,” Stiles agreed.

Jackson sinks down to sit on the floor now, his hand sliding across it, feeling the nap that has been weighed down by years of feet walking over it. They had painted every damned room in the house, but they never changed the carpet in the bedroom. It holds scents, and Jackson swears he can smell them here still.

It occurs to him that Stiles could have moved at any time. Yes, it was Nikki’s home, and it was familiar, but it also belonged to _both_ of them. It was a part of the start of their married life.

It still smells like home.

Jackson gathers up pillows from Stiles’s bed—pillows that smell like Stiles more than anything else—and borrows a blanket from his bed. He knocks on Nikki’s door, lets her know he’ll be downstairs, and she smiles and nods like that just makes sense.

He tries to be quiet while he makes himself a bed on the floor, eyes flashing to let himself see in the dark. He wraps himself in the blankets, makes himself comfortable even though it’s still early for sleep. Once he’s finally comfortable, he hears a softly murmured, “Idiot,” and he has to smile at how fond Stiles sounds.

“Your idiot,” Jackson corrects him softly, because Stiles is only talking in his sleep and it’s safe.

Curled up here on the floor, this is the most like _home_ he’s felt in years. And it feels good.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me [on Tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)! Please feel free to drop me an Ask; I love to talk.


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